The Oracle
by Eveiveneg
Summary: A seer is enslaved and forced to hide her powers in order to keep herself safe. Years later, a young plant mage comes to meet her master. The two meet and their fates become intertwined... {ON HIATUS}
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Dudes, hi. This story's disclaimers aren't going to be long and… Well, to be perfectly blunt, strange. Yes, I realize that I am strange. I don't need to be told. So, as I was saying, the Circle of Magic series doesn't belong to me. There are a couple people who belong to me, but that's it. So… Yeah. I'll be writing my other story too, so don't worry. I can't say this story will be updated often, or vice versa.

You guys should recognize the predictions down there as occurrences through out the books. I don't think I'll be on this thing tomorrow, cuz it's my birthday, and my mom has a big list thing on what to do. Bowling is included, so I'm happy. I mean, who wouldn't like to throw around eight pound balls that can endanger others? Certainly not me. In fact, I'm not allowed to go out there. It gets annoying.

Sorry. Rambling again. So there you go. Enjoy, and don't complain because I started earlier than some of you asked. This story's gonna be different than the other one, besides the obvious differences, such as characters and settings. Yeah, again, enjoy.

**Prologue **_by Eveiveneg _

_Hajra, Sotat_

The city's children rushed towards the camp, giggling happily. But it wasn't only them that had caught the fever of excitement. Young couples, old men, middle-aged wives,_ everyone_ had come out.

For the gypsies had come. This wasn't a normal occurrence, so everyone hurried out to see the traveling performers, watching in awe as they passed by. Pocketing their money, children and adults alike rushed out to enjoy the night. They gasped in appreciation as one man swallowed fire. They gaped at the woman who juggled swords and daggers. Every single audience member did a double take as a pair of twins contorted their bodies into the shape of a heart.

In short, it was absolute chaos. Chaos, but enjoyable chaos.

On a hill surveying the campsite stood a small girl, no more than five, watching the people. If anyone looked her way, they would probably just skip over her, not even remembering her later on. She looked pretty ordinary, just another child enjoying a free night. Her long black hair hung down to her waist, straight as a sheet of metal. She had an olive complexion, giving her the look of a native of the city. Dressed in breeches, shirt and a vest, she radiated a sense of calmness and normality.

But if anyone were close enough to see her eyes, they would stop and stare. Her eyes were storm cloud gray, like the calm before a rain, but quick enough to change and become fierce. Gold flecked the dark gray, like lightning flashing. They captivated those who so much as glanced her way, holding them.

At the moment, though, those lightning filled eyes were glazed over, seeing something no one else could.

A man came up behind her and, crouching down, laid a hand on her thin shoulder. "Selene."

She didn't even turn around. "You know better than to call me that."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I do. Please, accept my apology." She smiled slightly. "You need not worry, Emory. I doubt I could go for long being angry at you." He smiled in return.

"How do you think they like the entertainment?" He asked, looking out over the camp.

"They love it."

"You sure?"

She gave him a look. After a moment, he shook his head, grinning. "I should know better by now." She tugged his beard playfully.

They were quiet for a moment; content watching the people swarm around. Then the girl spoke. "I will do it tonight."

He turned abruptly, startled by her words. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "Tonight is one of those nights. I have no doubt of it." Emory returned her gaze for a second. She had always been different from the rest of the kids. Though she acted like a normal child, at times, such as this one, she was so confident and wise. It was like she was an old woman, who had seen all there was and had no worries about what she said.

"All right." He stood up, not bothering to wipe the grass off of his breeches. "I'll inform Cybele." She nodded absently. "Come, then." He left, returning to the camp.

The young girl stood there a moment, turning from the ground to the sky. She smiled, the soft light of the appearing stars lighting up her features. "I had best follow him." She whispered, more to encourage herself than anything else. Then her face broke into an excited grin, making her seem more like the child she really was. She ran after Emory, hardly able to wait for the night to come.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A group of boys wandered through the crowded 'streets' of the gypsy campsite. All were young, the oldest fourteen at most. They were spread out a small distance, making it seem as though they just happened to be heading in the same direction and had nothing to do with the other. But their association with each other was shown by the fact they kept sending casual glances to one another.

One boy, about six years old, walked among this group. His crisp black hair was cropped short, sticking out messily. His golden-brown skin marked him as a native of the area. His green eyes, however, indicated some northern heritage, and stood out against his dark skin.

He swaggered along, keeping pace with the others. Suddenly he stepped towards one of the members of the crowd. Before the man even noticed him, his coin pouch was gone and had disappeared in the boy's shirt. When the man finally saw that his money was gone, the boy was long gone.

Later, after the stars had begun to appear and the moon was rising, the boys gathered together in a secluded nook and counted their treasures. "This is good." The oldest and tallest declared. "We've enough for tonight. The Master shou' be pleased." He looked at the group of boys around him. "Go 'njoy yourselves. It'll be a while 'til we can do it 'gain." The others nodded, ecstatic at the prospect of being able to go out and watch.

The golden-skinned boy went off in his own direction, leaving the others behind. If he needed to, he could find them again.

He strolled through the innumerable masses of people, glancing at this and that, snatching an occasional purse when no one was watching.

Suddenly he heard a loud murmur of oohs and aws. He furrowed his brow and made his way over, listening to the announcement.

"Come one, come all! The Prophet has come! Let this Seer of the Future tell your fortune!"

He felt curiosity rise. He tried to push it down, but failed miserably. He kept going towards the center of the crowd.

He finally was close enough to see what was going on. A man, somewhere in between thirty and forty, was standing next to a wooden podium. He was the one calling out the advertisements for the Seer.

On the podium sat a small figure, cross-legged. They were dressed in gray robes, with long sleeves that covered the arms that rested on their legs. A hood was pulled over their bowed head, making it impossible to see the person's face. They were quiet, not making any sounds or movements whatsoever.

Each person that approached paid the man next to the Seer and went to the Seer. After being whispered instructions by the man, they would hold out a hand. The Seer would gently take their hand and look at it. After a few moments the small form would release their hand. Most people left looking happy. A few had sober faces on. None of the news seemed to be too bad, then.

Suddenly, the Seer's head snapped up. Everyone in the crowd seemed to stop moving and making noise. It was entirely silent.

The small figure turned their head around, meeting everyone's eyes. Then they stopped. Their eyes rested on one person, mostly hidden by the crowd, except for his gray-green eyes.

The Seer raised their arm and beckoned the single audience member towards the cleared area. He stared for a moment, then, very cautiously, walked forward. His eyes were focused on the figure on the podium. They returned his gaze steadily.

Before he could get up on to the podium, the man stopped him. He held out a hand, palm up. The boy stared at it apprehensively. Then an arm came on the man's shoulder. He looked down at the small hand and then at the Seer. They gave an imperceptible shake of the head. The man nodded and stepped back.

The boy looked at them confusedly, wanting an answer for this weird behavior. Why was the Seer letting him get away with no payment? Oh well, he shrugged mentally. It was a free fortune telling session, wasn't it? Who was he to toss it out?

A small hand gestured for him to come up onto the podium. He complied, albeit slowly. Now that he was closer, he could see that a white scarf covered the lower half of the person's face. The only feature that was visible was their gray eyes, which, he was startled to see, had golden flecks. It was like lightning flashing across a clouded sky.

A soft voice interrupted his musings. "Which hand do you use?" He moved his right one. "Give me your left one." He felt himself blanch. "Err, I-I can't do that." He stuttered.

"Why ever not?" If he hadn't known better, he would have thought there was amusement in the person's voice. "Because…" He bit his lip, unsure of what to do.

Those gray eyes were watching him too keenly for his comfort. Then they softened. "It's all right." They said quietly. "I won't judge you by what's on your hands." He looked at them curiously. But they just held out their hand. "Give me your hand."

After a moment of inner turmoil, he did so. On the web between the thumb and forefinger was an X. The person simply glanced at it before looking at his palm. That wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Why wasn't the Seer shrieking and calling for someone to come and take this little wretched street urchin away? This wasn't usual.

Running delicate fingers over the lines, and scars, in his hand, the person seemed to lose touch with the rest of the world. There was a blank look in their eyes, one that unnerved him.

They began to speak softly, still tracing lines on his palm. "You will leave, soon, and be taken to a new home, and new family. In a time of need, you will be bound to three others by magic." Their voice grew lower and faster, as if being flooded with information all at once. "Warriors attack your new home, threatening your newfound peace. Fire comes and endangers close ones." They paused for breath, then continued. "A close encounter with death, to save a loved one. A meeting of stone and plants. Plants save stone. Returning to ones who are changed beyond imagination. A powerful enemy that nearly tears you apart."

Suddenly they paused, as if confused. "You will… meet another who is shrouded in mystery and save them from grave peril. Love catches you soon after." They stopped and looked up at him, holding him with their captivating eyes. "You have a great future ahead of you. Don't let anyone take it from you. Don't ever give in." They whispered.

They released his hand and continued, "Don't lose faith in others. Be carefulwhen you choose who totrust. Those are my warnings. Farewell, Roach."The corners oftheir eyes crinkled in a smile."We will meet again."

He stared at them. How did this person know his name? Yes, this person was a Seer, but weren't they fakers?

He retreated quickly and melted into the crowd, tossing a final glance at the Seer.

She watched him leave, then closed her eyes again. Quietly, she muttered, "Drake? I don't feel so good." The man nodded sympathetically. "All right. You can leave. We've got plenty of money as it is." She simply nodded.

He turned to the crowd and announced, "I'm sorry to inform you that our Seer is officially done for the night. Please, enjoy the rest of time here." Many protested, wanting their own fortune told.

But the Seer had already slipped away, leaving them all. She retreated into a tent and pulled off the hood and scarf. Her long black hair fell down gracefully. She tied it back, keeping it out of her face. She threw off her robes, revealing her breeches and shirt underneath. She quickly grabbed a vest and began lacing it up. That done, she smiled and, making sure no one saw her, left.

She strolled around the area, looking interestedly at all the people. She soon came to the edge of the camp.

Suddenly, she heard voices in the trees. Curious, she sidled over to where they were coming from. Two men were arguing over something in heated whispers. She leaned in closer to hear.

"There's not nearly 'nough children!" One hissed.

"That don't mean you get to act how ya want!" The other replied hotly.

"What d'ya suggest, then?"

Silence met that question. The one questioned seemed to be thinking.

"We'll have ta keep going 'til we have 'nough." He seemed resigned when he said it. The other one seemed to panic. "But we were s'posed to have 'em ready by now! That's what the boss said!"

"Ya think I don't know that?" He snapped. "We don't have choice. Ya know better 'n I do that we can't jus' waltz up and give him less 'n 'e wanted." The other was quiet, fuming. "Fine." He said shortly.

She bit her lip. These were slavers. They caught unsuspecting people and sold them off as slaves. She had to tell Emory. Right now.

"Hey, where's Jess?" The fuming one asked.

She felt her face go pale. "There's more?" She whispered. "But where?"

"Right 'ere." A voiced hissed in her ear.

Before she could react, something rammed into the back of her head and everything went dark.


	2. A New and Miserable Life

**Disclaimer**: I giggle delightedly. Have you ever done it? It's a lot of fun. Err, anyway, same thing as last time. Blah blah blah. Err, what else? I'm to out of it to think right now. So, yeah. Enjoy the story. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I used the same slave collar from Trickster's Choice. I think. If I did, well, here's the disclaimer. And there's a song in here, it's not mine.Kudos to whoever guesses what it is and where it's from. Err, and review. Please.

**A New and Miserable Life **_by Eveiveneg_

Opening her eyes, the young woman sighed. Another morning, another beginning of a day in her miserable existence. She sat up and pushed her long hair out of her face. She was sore from a long and basically sleepless night on the stone floor. But she was used to it. Thirteen years of the same thing did that to a person.

Looking around the room, she noticed how little it had changed during her time here. The same cracks ran down the stonewalls; the same rats ran about on the floor. Bits of hay were scattered around on the ground, the only difference being the places and way they lay. The others in the room were still asleep. But that wasn't unusual either. She was always up early.

She personally couldn't see why this was true. The ground wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep; yet they would be unwilling to get up. Maybe they were just reluctant to leave the only bed they had. That made a bit of sense, though not the most. She knew why she wasn't comfortable there. She was the only one who'd had a different life than this. She'd lived with the gypsies for a short time, but it was enough to make her current lifestyle more difficult for her. Though she'd had to sleep on the ground, there was a blanket if it was needed. She'd slept with others who were happy for her to be there, and she'd been friends with them. But here you either served as a bed-warmer to some noble or froze to death. She couldn't bear to even think of being used like that, so she continually let the cold get her each night.

But why think of dismal thoughts right now? She had things to do. She could wallow in self-pity later. She pulled herself up and quietly got ready for the day. She smoothed out her tunic and breeches. They were a bit big for her, but she didn't mind. When she was done untangling the snarls in her dark hair, she braided it. She wrapped a rope around her waist to keep her breeches up. She didn't bother washing her face. There was no point. She'd be just as dirty by the end of the day as she'd been before. She tied her daggers into place, at her wrists, on her thighs, and one at the small of her back.

Glancing around, she saw no one was awake yet. She quietly exited the room, making sure not to step in… anything. She padded along the hall in her bare feet. She'd stopped wearing shoes a long time ago. But it wasn't when she'd lived with the gypsies that she'd stopped. Contrary to popular belief, gypsies weren't barbarians. They wore shoes just like any other person. It was when her boots had been stolen and she'd been unable to afford anymore during her time with the slavers that she'd forgone wearing them.

She stopped for a moment and looked outside. How she wished she could just go out there and appreciate being there. But she couldn't. She couldn't do what she liked anymore. Because she was a slave. It had been that way for thirteen years, ever since the slavers had caught her that night at the gypsy fair. About a week later she'd been sold off to Duke Kass. Her life progressively grew worse as she got older. She was handed more work because she was bigger and apparently more able than the others.

She shook her head to clear away those thoughts and continued on her way to the kitchen. When she reached it, she was unsurprised to find it occupied. She wasn't the only person in the house who got up early. Several cooks were busy preparing breakfast. The servants who were awake bustled about, helping the cooks. She really doubted if the nobles here knew how much work it took to prepare food.

She submerged herself into the flurry of work, soon forgetting her thoughts from earlier. As the sun rose higher, she hurried to bring food into the dining hall. When breakfast was finally over, she paused, taking a quick break. Leaning against the wall, she sighed in relief at the cool feeling of stone against her cheek. The day was very hot, even so early during the day. A servant passed by, ignoring her. She simply glanced at the woman before closing her eyes again. The footsteps slowed down and stopped, apparently greeting a friend.

"It's about time yer got back."

"I know, I know. That boy's so aggravating. If he weren't not the Duke's son, I'd beat 'em until he knew 'is place."

"I know what ya mean. Tis very annoying how he always be yellin' at us. We didn't do nothin' wrong. Only had the misfortune to accept these positions." One of them chuckled.

"Did ya hear 'bout the visitor tonight? Those mages."

"Whish ones? There're so many."

"The one's from Windin' Circle Temple. A whole group of 'em."

"Really?"

"Yah. The Duke was so 'cited 'bout it I thought he'd jus' 'bout wet his loincloth."

"Sounds 'bout right."

"But it also means we 'ave to make this place pr'sent'ble."

"Ick. Today's not gonna be much fun."

"Is it eva?"

She sighed quietly. More work. That woman was right. Today wasn't going to be much fun. She got up and reentered the kitchen, where she was told to go fetch some food for the grand dinner party that night. She nodded, listened to the list and ran out the kitchen door. She didn't need money for this venture into the market. The shopkeeper knew the Duke and simply added it onto his bill.

She quickly made her way through the streets she'd known since she was a child. They didn't scare her anymore. As she jogged along, she let her mind drift. The Duke's family had been particularly nasty that morning. They must've been worried. Well, they deserved it. They treated all the servants terribly. And the slaves… It was awful to see. Though she'd been whipped plenty of times, too many to count, nobody had ever recognized her from before. She was very normal looking, except for her eyes, which she always kept turned downward when speaking to a noble, or anyone. Any person could mistake that for her knowing her place not to even look at another person, but she did it to avoid standing out. That was dangerous.

She was so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she didn't look where she was going. She turned a corner and ran right into them. She toppled over, utterly surprised. She lay there a second, contemplating what had happened. Stupid, she finally decided. Incredibly stupid of her not to look where she was going. Where did she think she was, Winding Circle Temple? Hajra was full of street urchins, mostly boys and girls forced to steal to live. Though it wasn't usually their decision to live in a gang, it was still dangerous.

Cursing inwardly, she almost didn't see the hand that was offered. Startled, she a fought the urge to look upwards, and instead took the proffered hand. She studied the hand, furrowing her brow. Golden-brown in color, strong, large, and callused, she decided it was a man's hand, a young man. Probably a traveler that was native to the area. A black marking caught her eye, but his hand turned and she didn't see it any more. Her gaze flickered up his arm. Covered in plain white cloth, durable and sturdy. Yes, this man was getting ready to go somewhere. Then she blinked. That was odd. The clothes didn't seem to wrinkle. Strange. She let go as soon as she could stand on her own without falling over.

Then she tilted her head so it was in shadow and spoke. "I'm terribly sorry for runnin' into ya, sir. Please a'cept my 'pology." She blinked. She hadn't heard her own voice in a long time, possibly months. It sounded slightly scratchy and small from disuse. And, she noticed, she'd picked up the others' ways of talking, the servant's way.

"Never mind that. You all right?" She nodded slightly. This kind of thing had happened before. A person would take an interest in her, wanting to get to know her. Then they'd see the slave collar and turn away in disgust. The collar was a metal ring with leather straps attached. Magic and metal bound the slave from going a certain distance. If the person went farther than a certain point, the ring would contract and start to choke them. If not found and brought back within the limits, they'd die. It was also an easy way to recognize a slave. It was extremely uncomfortable. It pressed into the skin and burned as hot as fire during the day, and was cold as ice during the night, but she lived with it. It was just one of those things that you had to deal with.

"You need to watch where you're goin'. You don't know who you could run into anymore." She nodded again, keeping her head bowed. Why weren't they recoiling from disgust yet? Had they not seen the collar?

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Now he sounded slightly amused. "Something wrong with my face?" Here she was tempted to reply that she wouldn't know since she hadn't looked at him yet, but she held her tongue. She knew what happened when you snapped at another. Beatings.

"I can't." She answered softly. "M' not allowed ta. Boot I hafta go, now." With that she slipped back into the crowd. It wasn't often that she had those kinds of conversations anymore. People distrusted others more easily now, though it was to be expected.

She purchased the food in the market and ran back to the Duke's mansion. When she returned, she was berated for having taken so long, and smacked accordingly. She didn't flinch as the cook's hand struck her face. It happened often enough that it had stopped affecting her altogether. She muttered an apology and went to clean the main hall floor. Her hands burned from the lye in the water, but she kept her silence. The sun began to sink, and by the time she was done, it was nearly dark.

She was about to return to the kitchen when she heard the muffled sound of weeping. She followed the sound until she found a young woman, crying. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she was burying her face into them. Frowning, she approached her. "Miss?" She came up to her and crouched down. "Whas tha matta, miss?" The girl looked up, startled. "It's Lena. And who're you?" She demanded huskily.

"Jus a person passin' by, miss. Whas tha matta?"

She looked down, tears coming to her eyes. "Tha masta, he be wantin' me to-to dance for tha mage thas comin' tonight, along with tha otha dancers. Boot-boot," She shut her eyes. "Tha las' time I did that, th-tha men, they grabbed me an'-an'-" She buried her face in her legs again. She took pity on the girl. She knew what had happened to her. They had, or almost, raped her. Not the most pleasant of experiences. She herself had been fortunate in the matter, since men had never taken notice of her. She bit her lip. She couldn't tell the girl it'd be all right and she wouldn't be harmed, because that would be lying. She had no guarantee that it wouldn't happen again. Then a thought struck her.

"Miss, how would ya feel if someone traded places wit' ya?"

The girl started. "Wha-what?"

She smiled kindly at her. "I'd be willin' to trade places wit' ya. I take yer place as a dancer; you take mine as a server. What d'ya think?" In answer the girl flung her arms around her.

"Thank ya so much." She whispered.

She patted her on the back awkwardly. "Iss not a problem. Ya just have to point me in the right direction, I'll take care of tha rest."

She pointed. "The dancer's readyin' area is down that-a-way."

"I'm sure ya know where tha kitchen is." The woman nodded. "A'right. You head down there, I go an' take yer place as a dancer. If anyone asks, I'm sick an' yer fillin' in fer me. I'm tellin' the same to the dancers. I be seein' ya later." She gave her one last hug, then trotted down the hall towards the dancer's quarters.

It was probably one of the dumbest things she'd ever done. She'd heard enough stories to know what happened to dancers. But that woman was so hurt and scared that she couldn't help herself. Anyway, she'd seen them practice their routine enough times to know what to do. It helped that she used to dance with the gypsy children, so she was quick on her feet. She could also use the daggers she kept hidden to keep unwanted men away. Though slaves weren't allowed to own knives, she didn't care.

When she arrived at the door, she paused for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Then she opened the door blinking at the sight that awaited her. A dozen girls were running about, applying makeup, dressing, hooking on jewelry. She stared uneasily for a moment, then approached one of them.

"S'cuse me?" She asked softly. The girl turned around. She was shorter than her, but held a lot of authority.

The moment she laid eyes on her, her expression changed from one of excitement to one of anger. "Lena!" She hissed. "What were you doin'? Where were ya?" Startled, she opened her mouth to reply, but the girl continued. "Off with another man, weren't ya? Never mind that, we have a performance ta give!" She grabbed her arm in a surprisingly tight grip and called, "Missy!"

A girl came over to them. "Yes?"

"Lena was off with another one of 'er men. We hafta git 'er ready for the dance."

"C'mere." Missy pulled her over. "We hafta git ya ready for the performance."

The next hour was the most bizarre she'd ever been through. Missy slapped some makeup onto her, which she personally thought looked odd. It seemed to smother her face rather than make her look better. But to each her own, she supposed. A rather revealing outfit was thrown at her, and she donned it. Her hair was brushed until it shone and left hanging there.

Glancing into the large mirror, she sighed at her appearance. She looked like one a belly dancer from the gypsy carnival. A golden headdress kept her hair from falling in her face, instead causing it to cascade down her back. The tan-colored sleeveless shirt was decorated with yellow vines and ended just above her midriff. The thin, red skirt started at her waist and fell down to mid-calf. A light-attracting belt covered in fake gold held it up. Gold bangles hung at her wrists and the jewels in her hair flashed as she moved. But instead of looking alluring, she looked scary. Her lips were overly red and her eyes were nearly covered in kohl. She sighed again. She'd never touched makeup in her life and never wanted to again.

"C'mon! The master wan's us." Someone called. With a last uneasy glance at her reflection, she followed the rest of the dancers.

As she entered the dining hall, she could see that great effort had been put into making it look festive. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting colorful lights. Usually the place was dark and dim, with barely any light at all. There was to be entertainment that night, in honor of the mages' visit. The group of acrobats that had just been performing was now leaving, tossing a couple phrases of encouragement. She smiled slightly. Maybe people here weren't so bad. Maybe it was just her.

At the head table, where the Duke sat, there were faces belonging to people she didn't know. She'd lived at the house long enough to know the residents there, so she guessed theses were the mages the two servants had talked about earlier. Glancing down the line, she noticed one person in particular. He was younger than the rest by at least a decade. A lock of black hair fell into his face, but he didn't seem to notice. He had dark skin, golden-brown in color. He must be somewhere from the south, she thought. She couldn't see his eyes since they were flicking around from face to face. Something about him touched a chord in her memory, but she quickly shook it off as the musicians began to play.

Her feet began to move along with the music at the same time as the other dancers. She swirled her arms around in half circles, smiling. This was what she was good at. She hadn't danced since she was a young girl, but apparently she still could. The dancers formed a circle, joining hands. At a nudge from one of the others, she stepped into the middle of it and crouched down. The dancers began to walk, slowly at first. Then they started to go faster and faster and faster, until they were just a blur to her. The music picked up a speedy tune, like the notes themselves were running. Then the girls slowed and gracefully fell down on one knee, still holding each other. Without even thinking she rose, raising her hands in the air as she did so.

Though she didn't realize it, many men had turned their gaze to her. But she took no notice of it. All she focused on was moving along with the music. She twirled her hands and began to lower them, grabbing hold of each arm. Slowly, she began sliding them down her body as if hugging herself. They eventually got down to her legs, and she moved her hands to her left leg. She lethargically pulled up her leg until it was parallel with her body, toes pointing upward. Letting go of her calf, she balanced on one foot for a moment, the lowered it. Hands came up from two of the dancers and she bent her leg until her bare foot rested on their palms. She let her weight go down into the left leg, then pushed herself onto their hands fully. They grabbed onto her leg as she propelled her other leg onto the ground in front of her. She landed gently and she felt her leg being released.

Her eyes had been closed and now she opened them. Unlike her other movements, her gaze flittered from person to person faster than lightning. Her eyes stopped half a second at the young mage, who was currently staring at his plate. As if sensing her watching, her looked up. Her eyes flew to the next person before he could get too good a look at her.

She took a small step forward, then another, switching her hips as she walked. She stopped and brought her right hand up to her eyes and the other held out horizontally. Forming an arrow with her fore and middle fingers, she drew it across her eyes as she looked towards the outstretched arm. The music began to play an alluring melody, slow and soft. Her movements were like the song, smooth and meant to seduce. Then the music changed, becoming more fiery and fierce. She began to move faster and faster, making it more difficult for the people to focus on her.

With one last spin, she stopped and gracefully fell on one knee. The room applauded, filling her ears with noise. Suddenly she could hear more than just the applause. Voices, everywhere.

'_That was so well done_.'

'_Talented, that one_.'

'_She's so beautiful_.'

'_She'll be my next conquest_.'

'_Lady Aria is so lovely. This girl is nothing compared to her_.'

Glancing around, nobody else seemed to notice the voices. Her eyes widened. These voices were inside her head.

'_I want her. She'll be willing to keep me company tonight. She is a slave, after all_.'

'_Who is this girl? She seems so familiar…_'

She glanced up towards where this voice seemed to be coming from. It was the mage. He was staring at her in a baffled way. Their eyes met. She was amazed to see that they were green, a very startling green. They watched each other for a moment. She realized who he was in that instant. Not only was he one of the youngest people to ever become a mage, he was one of the four. Three girls and a boy, bound together by magic. This was that boy, and what's more, she remembered him. Not from stories, but her own memory. Thirteen years ago she read his palm. It had been one of the most incredible things she'd ever seen. He'd had a great future ahead of him. Now, she realized, it was even greater than she'd thought. She hadn't known what exactly would happen, but she knew now. He'd survived an earthquake, protected Winding Circle from invasion against pirates, helped put out a terrible forest fire, and brought an end to the blue pox plague of 1036. She had never imagined that the boy Roach would become this man. But it just showed miracles happened. She wondered if he remembered her.

Before she could try and find out, she heard something behind her and snapped back to reality. A voice was calling her. She stood up and joined the other dancers, casting a last glance at the young man. He seemed to be thinking as he watched her, furrowing his brow. She turned back to the others and exited with them.

The moment she set foot out of the door, a large, meaty hand grabbed her wrist. Spinning around, her face came in contact with the other hand. Startled more than anything, she stumbled to the ground. As she was yanked back up, she heard the voice she dreaded most: the voice of the Steward of the house.

"What do you think you're doing here? Well?" He demanded. He slapped her again. "Sneaking out on your kitchen duties to flaunt your body off, and in front of the mages!" She blinked. What? Skipping out on duties? What about Lena? "Miss Lena here informed me of your ventures. Told me you knocked her out and took her place. Foolish slut!" He smacked her cheek. Her gaze flickered to the side. There was the dark-haired girl, all traces of her tears gone. She was smirking at her, dark eyes cruel.

She'd been tricked, she realized. Lena hadn't wanted to perform tonight, wanting instead to gain men's attention. So she'd sat in the corridor, pretending to cry. In reality she'd wanted someone, specifically her, to come and take pity on her and switch places. They looked enough alike so nobody would suspect anything. When she'd gone off to perform her duties, Lena had gone off to sell her body to men. An hour later she went found the Steward and told him this story. He'd been furious and went to find her.

Masking her hurt before anyone saw, she turned back to the Steward. His eyes were blazing, his mouth in a tight line. Not a good sign. She had to explain. "Sir, I-" She began. He smacked her again. "You shut your mouth."

"Sir, you're mistaken. I-" She started again. He dug his hands into her wrist and drew her closer.

"Do you know what we do to little whoring liars like you?" He hissed. Oh, she did. She knew all too well what happened. "We whip them. We whip them until they can't even move." She felt fear rise in the pit of her stomach. Oh no. Oh no, not again, not again.

He began to drag her through down the hall. She struggled, digging her heels into the floor. "Sir, you're wrong. If you'd just listen-" He cut her short by slapping her again. "Shut up, slut." He sounded so much like a snake. An evil, conniving snake.

He pulled her into an empty room and flung her down on the ground. She landed on the stone floor, inhaling sharply as it hit her bruises. "Ready for your whipping, whore?" He asked, a cruel smile on his face. She got up on her knees and looked up at him, simply staring. He fidgeted for a few moments before turning away. Instead he went to the wall and took off a long coil of leather. "Not so brave now, are you?" He sneered. She just gazed at him solemnly. She wouldn't back down, no matter what. He unfurled the whip, letting it fall to the ground. She recognized this one as the cat's tail, the one with nine lengths of leather attached to it. He approached her, trying to make her frightened. But she wouldn't be intimidated. She refused to be.

He went around behind her. With a crack of the whip, he brought it down on her bare skin. She went down on all fours, holding back a cry of pain. He pulled his hand back and snapped it down on her. She gritted her teeth to keep back her screams and closed her eyes. It was so painful. It hurt so badly. She just wanted it to stop. '_Stop it!_' She screamed inside her head. '_Just make it stop so the pain will go away!_'

But he didn't. He kept smacking her back with the long cords of leather. She felt something wet trickle down her back. She knew that wounds had opened there. It had been a long time since her last whipping, at least five years. She'd lost track of the days that had passed. The old scars from them had healed and had faded over time. But now she'd have new scars to show off.

She imagined her old home, with the gypsies. She pretended she was still there, safe with them. Emory would act as a father to her, keeping her happy, or as happy as it was possible to be. Cybele would be there too. She'd been a dancing teacher, and had taught her how to dance. By now she'd be fifty-nine, but still in good shape. She was too exuberant not to be. And all of the gypsy children. They'd be around her age. There'd be other kids, ones she didn't know. How was her friend Maria? Were handsome young men courting her? As a child she'd always been something of a beauty. How about Rowan? How was he? Was he becoming a warrior? And Siri, what was she doing? Was she in training to be a midwife just like she'd always wanted? Did any of them even remember her?

This thought brought tears to her eyes and she fought them back. No use crying. The Steward would just think he'd caused her to do so. She wouldn't let him have the satisfaction.

After what seemed like an eternity, the whipping stopped. "You'd best have learned your lesson, little slut." He hissed. He rolled the whip back up and hung it on the rack lovingly. With a last glare at her, he left the room, slamming the door behind him. She pulled herself up after a moment, catching her breath. She couldn't stay here. She managed to get herself up after a long pause and stumbled to the door. She opened it and slid out, shutting it quietly behind her.

She glanced around carefully. The Steward wasn't there any longer, and no one else was in sight. She started running down in one direction. She had no idea where she was headed, but she knew she couldn't stay in the house. Seeing a door, she flung it open and scrambled out. A blast of cold air hit her. She was outside. She sighed with relief and began sprinting again.

Minutes later she burst into a small garden area, with a pond and lots of flowers. The water reflected the moonlight, and lit up the place. It was beautiful She walked over to the water's edge and collapsed on the ground. She stared at the moon, feeling tears run down her cheeks. Why was she here? Had she done anything to deserve this life? Glancing down at the water, she saw her reflection. A sad young woman with an olive complexion looked back at her. Black hair fell over her bare shoulders. It was too hard to even watch her. She closed her eyes and let the tears drip down. Hugging herself, she began to sing softly.

"_Heo naefre wacode daegred_

_To bisig mid dageweorcum_

_Ac oft heo wacode sunnanwanung_

_Thonne nihtciele creap geond moras_

_And on thaere hwile_

_Heo dreag tha losinga_

_Ealra thinga the heo forleas_

_Heo swa oft dreag hire sawle sincende_

_Neo ne cuthe hire neortan lust_."

She paused for a moment, then whispered the last line.

"_Neo ne cuthe hire neortan lust_."

She heard something rustle and turned around slightly. A tall figure was standing in the bushes. She squinted then sighed to herself and looked back at the water again. A few moments later the young mage Briar Moss sat down next to her.

"Nice night." He commented. She nodded. Something about the voice seemed familiar. Then it hit her. It was the voice of the man she'd run into earlier that day. "That was a nice song." He told her. She nodded again. It was one of her earliest memories, and a favorite of hers.

After a few minutes of silence he spoke again. "You don't talk much, do you?" A corner of her mouth came up in a sarcastic smile. She shook her head. In the corner of her eye she could see that he had an amused expression. "That was an interesting dance you did. I've only ever seen one person dance as well as you did, and he'd been taught for two years by one of the best teachers." Startled, she glanced at him. He was watching her intently. "Where'd you learn to dance like that?" She shrugged and turned back to the water.

It was quiet again. She listened to the nightingales chirp there soft melody. It was relaxing. They sat there a long time in a companionable silence. Then he offered a hand. "I'm Briar Moss. You might've heard 'bout me." She cast him an amused glance. "I see you have." He announced. She stared at his hand for a long moment, then shook it. She let go after a second and returned to gazing at the pond. "What's your name?" He asked. She bit her lip. Should she tell him? Or not? What could he do with it? Would he tell the guards at the palace she'd come out? That would result in a beating, or maybe another whipping. She closed her eyes in pain at the thought. She looked at him again. He seemed to have given up on her answering and was looking up at the sky. After a few moments of inner debate, she made a decision.

"Arwen."

Briar looked over at her, startled. "What?"

She kept her eyes focused on the water in front of her. "My name is Arwen."

She felt his gaze on her, as if assessing the name. "Thought you'd never speak up." He finally commented. She smiled slightly. She remained there a long time, letting the air just take her away. She rose high above the ground, soaring with the wind. Her eyes closed as she flew away from her body. She saw the city of Hajra below her, lights winking in the windows. Turning around, she saw the Pebbled Sea. It was amazing, the moon shining down on the water. It almost seemed like there were two moons instead of just one. Far in the distance there were islands, just tiny specks. She sighed happily. Then pain flashed through her, bringing her back to her body with a thump. She let out a small gasp.

"What's wrong?" Briar was watching her worriedly. "What happened?" She shook her head. He was fixing her with a sharp gaze. "You're lying. What's the matter?" She shook her head again.

She glanced up at the sky and cursed in her head. She stood up swiftly. He sighed and looked back at the water. She walked to the edge of the garden, then looked back at the young man sitting there peacefully.

"Good-bye, Briar Moss." She said softly. He spun around with an astounded look on his face and opened his mouth to speak. But no one was there.


	3. Snakes and Slime

**Disclaimer**: Isn't life lovely? Look at the sky… No, no, not at the sun. That will burn your eyes out. Okay, anyway, Briar and Rosethorn aren't mine. The others are. Hajra isn't mine… Yadda yadda yadda. You get the picture. On with the story, then! Oh, before I forget, there's something I gotta tell you. Briar and Arwen are not going to fall in love with each other. There _will_ be a romantic interest later on, but it will not, repeat, will not be Briar. For some reason, the idea of them together makes me all… _disgusted_. Don't ask why, just does. Er… Oh! And Arwen's character changes a bit in this chapter. She wasn't herself the last chapter because… Well, you'll see soon enough. So, that cleared up, on with the story, then!

**Snakes and Slime **_By Eveiveneg _

Arwen gazed unseeingly ahead of her. It was very quiet, though that was to be expected, since it was early morning, before the sun rose. She was sitting in one of the large bushes in the inner garden of Duke Kass's townhouse. She had curled into a ball there many hours ago, hiding from the guards. Unwilling to give up the freedom of being outside, she hidden herself in the large and leafy bush. She hadn't slept all night, just sat there, watching the small space in front of her.

It was at the false dawn that she finally realized that she had to get up and leave. Sighing, she made to stand, only to fall down. As her body twisted to lessen the impact of the fall, pain hit her, and she gasped. She fell flat on her side, causing the plant's leaves to shake noisily. She lay there for a second, waiting to see if anyone would find her. No one came.

Slowly, she sat up. She carefully felt along her back, wincing as she did so. When she pulled it back, she looked down at her hand. It was streaked with red. She bit her lip and poked her head out of the bush. No one was there. Taking a deep breath, she burst out of the leaves.

As she ran, she desperately tried to ignore the sharp cracking pain of the scabs reopening. When she finally reached the doors to the house, blood was dripping down her back. She hurried in and sprinted down to the dancer's quarters. The door was unlocked, and when she came in, there was only silence. She spotted her clothes, scooped them up, and got out before anyone realized she was there.

A few minutes later she was back outside and at the edge of the small pond she'd sat at all those hours ago. She knelt at the water's edge, cupped her hands, and put her hands in. It was horrendously cold, and it was hard to ignore how it numbed her hands to a point beyond feeling. She bent over and, contorting her arms in an extremely uncomfortable position, and let the water fall down from her fingers. She hissed as it splashed on her back. It hurt, but it was better to clean it somewhat rather than just leave it there, dirty. Who knew what was on that whip?

After doing this a few times, she stopped and straightened herself out. Though it still crackled a bit when she moved, it felt a lot better. She pulled off the dancer's outfit and dressed in her normal clothes. She was about to slide on her shirt when she stopped. The cloth, undoubtedly, would rub against the cuts on her back, causing her even more pain. Her gaze fell on the crimson colored skirt. It, along with the other parts, probably belonged to Lena. And if she didn't have it, she would have trouble getting ready for a performance. It was small and petty of her to take it just for that reason. But, well, the girl had gotten her in serious trouble, tricking her so she could go off and do what she pleased. Even this would be at least some payback.

She dipped it in and then squeezed the excess water out of it. Gently, she began to wrap it around her middle, covering the wounds entirely. It stung a bit, but at least it wouldn't get aggravated. She got into her shirt, tied the rope around her waist, then got up and made her way back to the manor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Arwen leaned against a wall and sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Then she realized that she couldn't get her fingers through. Uh-oh. That wasn't good. She tugged her hand and held in a yelp as it pulled her hair. She slowly untangled it and by the time she was done all of her hair was out of the braid it had originally been in.

Well, wasn't this perfect? Her day was not going well. Yesterday had just been depressing. She'd been wallowing around in self-pity, acting so differently than she normally did. But there was a reason. She had heard the date and realized it was the Anniversary. Not of marriage. Not of a birthday. No, it was the Anniversary of the day she'd been sold to the house. Gods, really bad day, that was…

And now the Head Cook had told her she was to serve the Duke in his private quarters. That didn't bode well. She'd heard enough stories to know what he did to his servants. Though she wasn't one, she didn't think that would matter. He would… Oh, Mila, she didn't even want to think about it. He liked to sexually harass the women that came in and out of his rooms.

She heard a screech and hurried back into the kitchen, braiding her hair back again haphazardly. Bloody woman was always screaming about something…

A few minutes later she was in front of the door to the Duke's rooms. Though she wasn't the only one there to help serve, she didn't want to go in there. _Oh, what, are you scared? _A voice in the back of her head taunted. No, She proclaimed, I'm not.

_Then deal with it. _

She glared at the wall in front of her. Nobody noticed, thankfully, as she was at the back of the group. Someone, Serra, maybe, knocked on the door.

"Come in!" A voice called from inside. Steeling herself, she walked in with the rest of the slaves and servants. It seemed that the Duke wasn't eating alone; a small group was there, seated on the lounges in the parlor, including his young children.

"It's about time." She glanced over to the speaker. It was the Duchess Marilyn. A small and proud woman, Arwen had always thought she resembled a giraffe, with her long neck and large ears, high on her head. But whereas giraffes were sweet and, for the most part, gentle creatures, the Duchess had a rather demeaning personality. She'd made her point quite clear that she was above the servers early on.

She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything. She knew what happened when you sassed the heads of the house: Whippings, and plenty of them. She settled for a subtle glare at the woman, who was currently drumming her fingers on the arm of the sofa.

"Well?" She demanded. "Are you just going to stand there?"

They quickly came forward and set the table in front of them. Though she was sure people were watching her, she ignored them and placed plates down in front of everyone.

She thought back to the night before instead. Lena. Her blood boiled when the name came to mind. She'd used her to her own ends and gotten her in trouble for something she shouldn't have. She wanted to make that girl pay, but there was no real way to do it, if she didn't want the beatings she'd surely get if she did so.

When she was done she pulled back and joined the others. As always, they retreated to the other side of the room, in the shadows. Someone always had to be there in case the family members or their guests wanted something. She felt the others scoot away from her slightly. She smiled wryly to herself. She'd always been known as something of an oddball ever since she came here. Go figure why.

Suddenly she heard a shrill shriek and snapped her head up. It was the Duchess, screaming over something or other. She'd always been amazed at how long the woman could hold the squeal, especially at such a high pitch. At first she thought it'd just been a bird outside the window, or a fly, perhaps, that Duke's wife had screeched at. But glancing at the other breakfast companions, she found that they had rather shocked, even terrified, expressions on their faces. A few of the servants came forward to see what was the matter, only to hurriedly come back to the wall. Frowning, she made her way forward.

A snake was on one of the trays. Someone must have picked up the cover and found it there. Obviously the Duchess had begun screaming. She felt rather sorry for it. It was frantically looking for a way to get out, swinging its long, dark neck around as it did so. Poor thing, she thought. It doesn't deserve to be there in the middle of this.

She was brought out of her reverie by a shout.

"Get the vile thing!" Duke Kass yelled. He had a knife in his hand and was approaching the snake. She realized what he was going to do in an instant.

Before she could think, she'd dashed forward and shouted, "Stop!" He stopped and looked over at her.

"What?" He asked bewilderedly. Then he shook his head angrily and kept going. She didn't have time to warn him again before he tripped over the footstool that lay haphazardly in his way.

It's his own fault that he didn't listen to me. She held in a snicker. At least he didn't stab himself. She was in the midst of the breakfast group now, so she halted and looked down at the bemused man below her.

"S'cuse meh sir," She told him, bowing slightly. "I didn' mean ta startle ya. I was on'y tryin' to keep ya from harmin' tha snake."

"And why would you do that?" He snarled, still having difficulty getting back up.

"A' cuz," She said, surprised. "That'd be harmin' another bein'. You aren' s'posed ta do that 'less you're provoked. 'Sides," She continued with a careless shrug. " 'T'asn't harmed no one yet. Fact, iss probly more scared 'a you 'n you are of it."

She looked over at the snake. "Lookit tha poor thing." She cooed. "Scared out 'a iss wits, 'tis."

"And how would you know that?" The man snapped.

She raised an eyebrow. "Look 'tit. Wavin' iss head 'round. Iss lookin' fer a way ta git out. Doesn' want ta hurt nobody."

She turned over to the snake and crouched down at its eye level. "Don't ya worry, laddy." She extended an arm. "Climb aboard." He tilted his head, seeming to ask why he should.

"Cuz," She said quietly, so as not to scare the others. "I'll git ya out." He seemed to brighten at this and nodded his head eagerly. She smiled as he slithered over to her and wound himself onto her arm. He coiled himself around her lower arm, his head a few inches above her wrist.

"There ya go." She stood up and looked around at the mess of people sitting there. "I'll take 'im out, Your Grace." He was watching her apprehensively and nodded his head uncertainly. He still seemed angry about her informal way of treating him, nearly insulting him, in fact, but was at a loss for words at the moment. She cast her gaze around, examining each person closely. They all seemed fine, but were watching her with a confused look, maybe even _scared_. She was puzzled. Why were they staring at her so? Then she shook her head. No time to ponder that now. She had to help her new friend get back outside.

She trotted to the exit and everyone moved out of her way. She looked back at them a moment, face expressionless, then shut the door with a soft click.

She walked along the halls, making sure to take the long way around. Though it would take much, much, much longer, it also was safe from prying eyes. Now she didn't have to worry about anyone else seeing her and staring at her oddly.

"So," She started. "What exactly were ya doin' in the nobles' breakfast, hmm?" He shrugged, muscle rippling along his body.

"Come on." She coaxed. "Tell meh the truth." He seemed to squirm uncomfortably, then nod. She could just hear what he would be saying.

_-Fine. I'll tell you.- _He paused, as if a little unsure_. –Well, I was just out, sunning on a rock outside, when something came down over me and blocked the sun. I don't know what it was, but it scooped me up and carried me somewhere. I heard some shouting and was thrown down. Before I could get out, I was dumped onto something very hard, very cold, and, for a split second, everything was bright. Then it all went dark again and I was picked up and taken off somewhere. Then the woman screeched and now I'm here._- He stopped. –_Do all humans scream like the giraffe woman?_-

She laughed. "No, no." She explained. "Jus' that one." She paused for a second, then added, "Well, that _I_ know of."

She realized that some boy had caught the poor snake and then left it carelessly on a tray when he went to do chores.

They continued on in this fashion until she reached the door outside. Opening it, she felt the snake sigh in relief. –_I thought I'd never see the light of day again_.- She giggled and walked over to a suitable rock. Setting him down, she suddenly thought of something.

"Whass yerr name, anyway?" He looked up at her and tilted his head.

_-It's Jett_.- She smile and stroked his scales one last time.

"G'bye, then, Jett. Ta' care not ta get caught by iny little boys again."

_-So that's what it was?_- He seemed surprised. –_I thought for sure that it was pure evil that had gotten me_.-

She chuckled. "Soomtimes people compare tha two as tha same." He gave her a snake smile then slithered away, off to find a good rock to sun on.

She strolled back in, heading back to the Duke's quarters, when someone seized her hand. Whipping her head around, she saw a man, much taller than she was, smiling at her drunkenly. She looked at him in disgust.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here in a place like this?" He drawled slowly. "How 'bout you keep me some company, eh?" She snorted derisively.

"Please." She answered. "I wouln't toush you by choice with a thirty mehter pole." He growled and the grip on her wrist became tighter.

"You think you're better 'n me?" He demanded. "You're nothin' but a slave! I'll teach you to mess with me!" He began to drag her off, pinning her arms together so she couldn't hit him. She growled and began struggling.

"Ya let me go righ' now!" She yelled. He smacked her hard on the back. She barely kept in a scream as she felt her wounds burn ferociously.

"Shu'up!" He snarled. She kicked out behind her. When she felt her connect with his knee, he shouted and squeezed her tighter. They came to a door and he flung int open and pulled her in. Throwing her down on the bed, he began tearing at her buttons.

She slammed her heel into his face and was satisfied to hear the crunching of broken bones. She pushed the temporarily subdued drunk off of her and scrambled out of the bed. She sprinted for the door.

"You slut!" The man's voice was muffled from the injury she'd inflicted on him. "Get back here!"

Oh, yes. She thought, rolling her eyes. I'm going to go back there so you can rape me and more than likely get me pregnant and in trouble with the Steward, Duke, and Duchess. I think I'll just keep going, that all right pumpkin?

It wasn't until she was almost out of the room when something flew into her back and shattered. She held back a piercing scream and fell down. Shards of clay scattered across the floor as she landed. Hearing a roar of fury, she staggered up and started running. She felt the sharp edges of pottery biting into the soles of her feet as she loped down the hall. When she reached a corner, she slipped and nearly landed on her back, but managed to keep herself up and keep going.

She couldn't think about anything except the knife-like pain that shot up her legs every time her foot touched the ground. It was because of this that she didn't realize how tired she was getting and how much she was bleeding. By the time she stopped, she was nearly ready to collapse.

Looking around, she blinked. She had, at some point or other, gotten outside. She looked up at the sky and narrowed her eyes against the sun.

"It's really hot…" She muttered. Her legs suddenly felt watery. Dropping down on her knees, she stared blearily ahead of her.

"I shou' probly get inta tha shade…" Her vision wavered and started to blur.

"Whoa," She said dazedly. "Thass not good." The pain in her feet and back had traveled around her body, making it all feel like someone was pouring hot wax over her body.

"I'll jus' close meh eyes fer a sec'…" The world around her swam for a moment. She vaguely recalled falling over as the world around her went dark.


End file.
